


Don't Go

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [23]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Balcony Scene, F/M, First Kiss, Kissing, or well sort of first kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After weeks of uncertainty following their kiss in the Fade, Solas seeks some time alone with Isii in order to talk.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>My take on the balcony scene.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Go

Isii stopped to catch her breath as she reached the top of the stairs, panting softly as she stretched her neck and shoulders. She wouldn’t admit it in the training yard, but Cullen had presented more of a challenge than she’d been expecting. She was beginning to think she’d overestimated her abilities when she initially asked for his help. She was competent with a blade, but apparently not good enough when facing an opponent equipped with a shield and full armor. Using magic, she’d have him flat on his back within seconds. Without it, she ended up hitting the dirt more times than she’d care to admit.

It made matters worse that she was pretty sure he was holding back.

But that was the point of this whole exercise. Corypheus had turned the Templars against her. She needed to know she could handle herself in a fight if her magic was neutralized.  

She began to unwind the long cloth that bound her chest and stomach, twisted and knotted in the Dalish style to support her during training. She tossed it on her bed, starting to loosen her breeches when she heard the knock at the door. She cursed softly under her breath, trying to quickly shimmy the clothing off of her hips. She’d asked one of the servants to have a bath prepared for her, but she didn’t expect them to be ready so soon. “Just a moment!” she shouted, freeing her legs before reaching for her robe. She slipped the garment around herself as she padded down the stairs, tying it hastily before opening the door.

Solas stared back at her curiously.

“Oh,” she said in surprise, chuckling as she tightened the tie on her robe. “Well, you’re certainly not the bathing tub I was expecting.” She offered a smile, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “What can I help you with?”  

“Inquisitor,” he began politely with a nod of his head, “I was…” He paused suddenly, his words fleeing as he frowned, his eyes cast aside. Her brow furrowed as she tilted her head.

“Something wrong, falon?”

“No.” His denial came quickly, but it wasn’t convincing. There was something in his posture - the angle of his shoulders, how his hands were balling into loose fists at his sides. It was subtle, but she could tell he was agitated. He looked concerned. “My apologies,” he said, continuing to look away, “I did not realize you would be.… Now is not a good time.” He nodded again, seemingly satisfied by that conclusion as he took a step back. “We will speak later.”

“Hey.” She caught his arm, offering him a reassuring smile. “If you need to talk to me Solas, then let’s talk.” She let go of his sleeve, holding the door open for him. “Come in.”

He appeared hesitant but nodded again, wordlessly walking past her. She closed the door, following as he ascended the stairs and paced onto her balcony. The light breeze pulled at her robe and she closed it tighter around herself, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest as the thin fabric did little to keep the cool air from chilling her skin. She watched as Solas paused for a moment, looking out over the horizon, the sun beginning to slowly sink behind the mountains beyond.

“Want to tell me what this is about?”

“What were you like?” he asked, his eyes shifting to settle on her. “Before the anchor?” His words did not appear to come easily, as if he wasn’t certain how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your…spirit?”

“What kind of a question is that?” She laughed, but it faded quickly when she saw his discomfort. There was no doubting he was serious.

“Please… I would have your answer.”

“No,” she said gently. “I’m no different than the person I was before the Conclave.”

“Ah.” He said nothing else- just that quiet, muttered _ah_ as he frowned, his gaze shifting away again.

“Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

“You are…” His words faltered. He started again. “You show a wisdom I have not seen since…Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.”

The corner of her lips lifted, a single brow arching as her hands slipped onto her hips. “Sorry to disappoint,” she teased.

“It’s not _disappointing,_ it’s…” He sighed, shaking his head as he turned, his fingers tracing over the smooth stone of the balcony’s railing. “Most people are predictable,” he began. “I have seen the same decisions, the same mistakes made time and time again, repeating endlessly throughout the history of this world. There is a pattern to it. It makes certain things… easier to accept,” he said, a note of cautious tension in his voice. “And yet, you are different. You have shown subtlety in your actions. A wisdom that goes against _everything_ I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… have I misjudged them?”

She shrugged. “Probably.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully, his eyes falling again as she took a step closer. She leaned her hips back against the railing, settling her hand over his own. “We are not without fault, Solas. I don’t pretend that my people are perfect. The Dalish are what they are because we’ve spent generations being feared and attacked. Some of us cope better than others. But can you really fault those who falter for biting the fist that keeps trying to crush them? For wanting to keep something for themselves when so much has been taken?”

“I suppose not,” he admitted quietly.

“There are those among my people who can be stubborn and hateful and even cruel. And if that’s been your only experience of them, I can’t fault you for assuming the worst of us. But isn’t that true of all people? There are countless shemlen who would see us both as common filth for the shape of our ears - yet every day we see more join the Inquisition, looking to us for guidance. As a youth, I would have hated and distrusted them all simply because they are human, but I can’t pretend they are all the same. Not without purposely looking the other way because I don’t want to accept that I was wrong.”

He studied her for a moment, a strange look warming his features. “Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.”

Isii grinned, chuckling. “High praise for a girl who spent most of her life hiding away in the woods. Not sure how much I really understood of the world when the biggest shemlen village I’d ever been to was still small enough for the townsfolk to be on a first name basis.”

“All the more impressive then, that you are the way you are.”

“This whole experience with the Inquisition has done a lot to broaden my perspective,” she said with another shrug. “I’ve had no choice but to adapt.”

“Perhaps that is it,” he said, nodding, his gaze lowering. “I suppose it must be.”

He fell silent then and she watched him, studying his features. “I get the feeling that’s not the answer you were looking for.” She hooked her finger under his chin, guiding him until he looked into her face once more before letting her hand fall away. “What’s this really about, falon?”

He watched her for a moment, the corner of his lips lifting. “I have not forgotten the kiss.”

She smiled, her cheeks warming as she turned her body to face him. “Good,” Isii said softly. She closed the distance between them with a single step, lingering a short breath away and watched as his features softened, his eyes drifting down to her lips as they parted. Offering. Inviting. He remained still, simply watching her, studying her face with that same sort of quiet contemplation that she never quite understood.

She tilted her head, her smile spreading as she tucked her hands behind her back, her chest pressed forward as she stared up at him. She imagined the warmth of his hands chasing away the chill of mountain air from her skin, the taste of him on her tongue, the thought of it making her heart begin to race. She wanted him. She’d wanted him for weeks now - longer than that, if she was being honest with herself.

A slow sadness crept over his features as he shook his head, his eyes closing. She caught his arm as he turned away, curling her fingers around his sleeve and he froze. Hesitant. Uncertain.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

“It would be kinder in the long run.” She felt a subtle pull against her hand, worrying for a moment that he would shrug away from her touch only to feel his fingers slip around her wrist as he turned once more. “But losing you would-”

The thought went unfinished, words consumed by the press of his lips as he pulled her into a tight embrace. The movement was swift - as sudden and as desperate as it had been in the Fade but now it was real. It was flesh. She could feel the weight of him, the warmth, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around her, crushing her against the press of his body. His chest brushed against the thinness of her robe, rubbing with every breath. She shuddered, her trembling seeming to only drive him further, his hand slipping down to the base of her spine to ease her closer. His tongue teased against her lips, slow and searching, seeking entrance before slipping deeper, tasting her, caressing her. He moaned softly as he did, barely a breath of a sound and yet it sent a shiver down her spine. Her fingers sought his belt, tugging gently until their hips were flush with one another.

He felt so much better than she’d ever imagined.

His kiss sent a hot rush of relief through her. After weeks of ambiguity, of not knowing how he felt or where this was going - all of that tension melted away. She circled her arms around him and felt him sigh into her embrace, kissing her anew, each one a slow, rolling wave of soft pleasure. His lips parted from hers far too soon, his eyes still closed, his forehead resting against hers. She nuzzled the tip of her nose along the side of his own, tilting her chin towards another tentative press, a slow drag of loosened lips before he pulled back, looking into her face through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

The words left her stunned, staring up at him her eyes widened. She wondered for a moment if maybe they meant something different for an outsider; among her people they were not spoken lightly. Love was an absolute. You didn’t say it unless you mean it, unless you felt it in the very core of your being. Vhenan was never meant for some simple fondness or infatuation. But no. She could see it written plainly on his face, in the earnestness of his tone. He loved her.

It changed everything.

Every evening shared in their tent, talking well into the night. Every moment of shared laughter, every touch, every kindness. He’d loved her then, too. She could see it now so clearly - this friend who had been so much more than a friend to her since this madness began. She cupped his jaw in her hands, a smile spreading on her lips as she parted them to speak only to be silenced by a heavy pounding on her bedroom door.

Realization came slowly and she shook her head. “Sorry, it’s…” The knocking grew louder, more insistent. “Just a second!” she called out, unable to fully hide the irritation in her voice. _Damn._ It had to be the servants delivering the bathing tub and water she’d ordered them to retrieve. She’d been expecting them and yet now wanted nothing more than for them to disappear.

Solas was already retreating from her touch as she gave him an apologetic smile, her brows lifting. “Hold that thought?”

She reluctantly drew away from him, hurrying down the steps to open the door. Two servants carried the basin, three more behind carrying buckets of water, a fourth bearing a tray of scented oils and soaps. The procession forced her to move swiftly out of the way, leading them to the spot in front of the fireplace where they could set down their load. She insisted that she could prep the tub herself as they began to fill it. She tried not to seem ungrateful - yet all she wanted was to rush them out.

It was to her great disappointment to find Solas had quietly slipped away during the commotion.

Alone once more, she let out a slow breath, brushing her fingertips across her lips, incapable of resisting the urge to grin like a fool.

He loved her.

And there wasn’t even a single doubt in her mind that she loved him too.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to work myself back into writing by finishing up a piece that's been sitting in my WIP folder for a while.


End file.
